To Just Pretend
by Echo the Insane
Summary: Revised. Susan hasn't really forgotten Narnia. It's just easier to pretend she has. A character piece, written in hopes of explaining her sudden and disappointing denial of Narnia.


Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia. C. S. Lewis owns it, and I have no doubt he is there now, writing to his heart's content beside the lion Aslan, looking over the great land from the high windows of Cair Paravel. Oh and Disney's dabbling with it too. The BBC tinkered with it once-upon-a-time as well. And some animation company whose name I've forgotten. But it's all Lewis' in the end.

**To Just Pretend**

Susan Pevensie stared into the silver-lined hand-mirror her latest suitor had given her. Her hair was still of color, her skin still firm, her eyes still bright. But around those eyes, she saw the first hints of age. The tiny lines crinkled when she smiled and grew longer when she frowned. She touched them with the pad of her index finger, her mouth pulled down in the finest of frowns, lengthening them once more.

For a moment, she swore she saw a lion standing behind her in the glass. She looked over her shoulder casually, for she knew the lion was not there. She felt no fear; only disappointment. She sat the mirror down and pulled her hair into a neat, stylish bun, fastening it with a silver clip her last suitor had given her.

It was her thirty-third birthday. She wore a dress of the finest green satin. It clung to her and trailed after her with soft whispers as she rose, brushing against her ankles and silken shoes. She stood before the full length mirror upon her closet door, her chin held high and expression haughty.

For a moment, she was once more Queen Susan the Gentle. She touched her hair and fancied to feel the familiar weight of her crown upon it.

In the reflection behind her now was a male face and figure. He was tall and fair, with eyes gentle only for her. Her heart raced and she spun, wildly looking from corner to corner of her flat, feeling her eyes prickle with anguished tears.

It was only her imagination.

Her suitor came not a minute later. He was tall and dark and perfect. He wanted to marry her. He looked upon her like she were a Goddess, giving to her anything she desired.

But she did not love him.

Susan sat down in the car beside him, staring ahead blankly. She breathed in deep, suddenly smelling the night blooming lilies that once lined her palace quarters. She closed her eyes and for an instant, she could see the old tapestries and dusty windows.

She felt a hand upon her own and for a moment, it was his. Not her suitor, but the young creature she had seen in the glass. She squeezed her eyes shut, relishing the feeling, ignoring the fact this hand was smaller and not nearly as strong. He spoke and the illusion shattered. She opened her eyes and looked to the man who would be her husband if only she would let him.

She simply could not.

They arrived at the Duke's party - for the Duke was her suitor's father - only a few minutes late. She smiled and was smiled upon. She curtsied and laughed and did everything everyone expected of her. She ignored the lion walking in the shadows and kissed the Duchess' plump cheek.

Narnia was never far from her, despite what she had often told Peter and the others. Not a night went by where she forgot the face of Aslan or the high halls of Cair Paravel. When she stood in the ancestral home of her would-be in laws, Susan was reminded terribly of her past. She could not look at fine trinkets the Duke had collected, the tall portraits of his family, the suits of old armor that lined the walls, nor stay in the dance hall for any amount of time. As soon as her suitor turned his back, she slipped out onto the balcony and took a deep breath of truly fresh air.

She felt the lion's nose push against her palm through her silken glove. She curled her fingers, their tips barely brushing his snout as he moved away from her. She felt the tears prickle again and closed her eyes, wishing she could fade into the night.

Behind her was the clear click of hooves upon marble. Her heart raced and her eyes opened, desperate to hope and yet so terrified to do so. She turned slowly, looking with devotion filled eyes upon the face of her beloved.

He was unchanged. His oh-so-human face soft with love for her, his powerful body pale in the moonlight. His four hoofed feet nervously tapped the ground as he shifted his weight so carefully, the muscles of his hindquarters twitching as if prepared to run at a moment's notice. His callused hand was out towards her, his bare chest heaving with emotion and shoulders trembling. Susan clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out, reaching towards him. Their fingers brushed and when she blinked, he was gone.

Alone and shivering, Susan sank to the ground, her hands pushed over her ears and mussed her hair, trying to block out the memory of his voice so softly whispering her name. She sat trembling there for what seemed hours before she ran down the nearby steps and into the night, hailing a cab as soon as she could.

She never saw her suitor again and she never married. No Earthly man was good enough.

Every night she lay awake in bed, wishing for Narnia to come to her again. She cursed herself when she thought of Peter and Lucy and Edmund. Memories of how she would smile and put on her lipstick or adjust her nylons to distract herself tormented her. The way she laughed falsely at the mention of lions, witches, and wardrobes made her ill. How she had wronged them!

They never knew of her beloved centaur. She never told them. Humans were meant to love humans and centaurs were meant to love centaurs. They wouldn't have understood.

In the end, it was just easier to pretend it never happened.

None of it.

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A/N: Well, that was depressing. I was watching the BBC version of Narnia earlier tonight and was thinking about Queen Susan and why she denied Narnia. This just sort of came to me. What could make a woman like Susan deny the very thing that made her into who she was?

Love of course. Or the denial of love. Thus, this odd little oneshot was born. I hope I made it clear enough.

Thanks to Ladylark for the beta read. You're a star! And thanks also to fledge, who pointed out that my story was somewhat A/U and spurred me to revise it. It has been many a year since I read the Narnia books, and quite frankly, I forgot that Lucy, Peter, and Edmund (as well as the other "Children of Narnia") were killed in a train crash. Argh, my mind fails me in my elder years (I being 23 and all).


End file.
